I'll Take Care of You
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: Molly's having an awful day, but maybe her favourite consulting detective can lift her spirits.


"So, you're just gonna leave because Molly's not in today?" John asked, annoyed that he was called by the consulting annoyance to come along for an experiment that was apparently not happening now.

"You see but do not observe, Watson," Sherlock retorted. "Molly only takes a day off if it's important for her to. Her monthly cycle comes along at this time and she's most likely in too much pain to come in."

"Right, didn't need to know that, mate," John replied.

"Oh, do grow up," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm going to see if she needs anything. We won't be conducting the experiment today."

"You know, she's gonna figure out that you meant the 'I love you' if you keep doting on her," John told him. "It's been months since it happened. Why haven't you told her already?"

"Because I'm afraid she won't believe me," he sighed, the sadness washing over his face. "So, I figured if I showed her how I felt through my actions, she might figure it out for herself. I care for her deeply; more so than anyone else. She needs me right now." And with a dramatic swish of his coat, Sherlock stepped out of the hospital, hailing a cab.

* * *

When Molly woke up, she felt a comforting warmth near her abdomen, soothing away her cramps. Her eyes adjusted and saw a heating pad lying over the waistband of her jeans. Her bedroom door opened, unraveling the mystery before her. Sherlock Holmes gave her a sad smile before sitting on the bed beside her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with a yawn.

"You weren't at work," he said as if it were obvious she'd get his meaning. "So I knew something was wrong." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering longer than was necessary. "I'll take care of you, Molly."

"Sherlock, you don't—"

"Look, I know things have been strained between us and I know it's been difficult, but I'm really trying here. You've always taken care of me, Molly. Why can't I do the same for you? I want to," Sherlock's voice was thick with emotion, a tear slipping from his eye that he hadn't been aware of. "I've always had a hard time expressing how I feel, and I know that's why you once thought you didn't count. But you did count; you always have. I need you to believe that."

"Come here," she spoke softly, sitting up now that she her cramps had faded away for a while. His response was automatic when she reached out to him, hugging him to her. "I know you care. And I know you're hurting too. Thank you for coming over to take care of me. It's just"—she took a breath—"I'm not used to anyone doing anything for me. I'm usually the one being there for others, but not asking for help when I need it."

"That needs to change," Sherlock told her. "You can always count on me. I'll be here for you." Suddenly, she realized they were no longer talking about the fact she was bedridden for the day. "Molly, I—" _Why couldn't he say it? Why was it so damn hard to tell her he loved her? He already did it twice. Because this time would either make or break them._ He sighed in frustration, raking his hands through his already frizzy curls from the rainy weather outside.

"Hey," she whispered, gently taking his hands in hers. "It's okay. I love you too." His face showed surprise at how well she could read him, not unlike the day she proved that she saw right through him, being sad when no one else was looking. He nearly went into buffering mode when he felt her lips tenderly press against his. It was only a few seconds, but it left him speechless. Noting the incredibly serious tension in the room, Molly changed the subject. "So, are you gonna tell me what all that is or do I have to deduce it for myself?" She looked over at the paper bag from whatever shop he went to.

"Well, it's a bit of a care package for you," he explained. "I brought your favourite soup and some other things I thought you'd like."

"That's very sweet of you, thank you, Sherlock," she smiled. "I take it the heating pad was part of that?"

"It was," he replied, feeling a bit proud of himself for making her smile on such a rubbish day. "Would you like me to heat up your soup for you?"

"I would, thank you," she told him. Whilst he was out of the room, Molly took it upon herself to look through the contents of the bag. There was a bag of chocolate covered pretzels, a soft, sunny yellow throw with cartoon-style bees on it, a bottle of powdery pink nail polish and the new book in her favourite book series. _He really did all this for me?_ She asked herself.

"It's still a bit hot, but it'll cool down enough in no time," he said, entering her room, setting the bowl on the nightstand. "I also thought, if you wanted to, we could watch your favourite movie together." He held up her copy of the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she half laughed and half sobbed. "I'm just really happy you're here."

* * *

When the movie started, Sherlock took it upon himself to paint her toes for her in the powdery pink colour. It proved to be difficult, as her feet were incredibly ticklish when others handled them, but he succeeded in the end. When her toes dried, she curled up beside him, their legs tangling together. Sherlock found himself truly enjoying the film, noting that he should read the book at some point. Jane Austen was one of Molly's favourite writers, after all.

Molly was no longer feeling like rubbish, happily snuggled up to the man she loved. She kissed his cheek, lightly trailing her lips over his skin. He turned to look at her, those beautiful cerulean irises piercing her brown eyes. His hand caressed her cheek, cupping it, as he leaned in to kiss her. They further explored each other's mouths, their tongues tracing each other's lips and tangling together. When they parted for the need to breathe, their foreheads were touching, both displaying shy smiles.

"I love you," he said in a breath, then again, louder. "I love you so much, Molly."

"And I you, my love," she replied. Molly eventually fell asleep in his arms, knowing that not only did she find her very own Mr. Darcy, but that her reality with Sherlock was so much better.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** my terrible period cramps led me to writing this where I basically live vicariously through Molly lol


End file.
